


Flipping in the Old Belly-o

by Kirsten



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-11
Updated: 2003-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flash has never really been sick before, so it's kind of hard for him to recognise the signals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flipping in the Old Belly-o

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Contrelamontre Food Challenge. Forty-five minutes exactly.

Flash has never really been sick before, so it's kind of hard for him to recognise the signals. He's feeling weak and shaky and decidedly un-hungry, the burger in his hands appealing about as much as sugared rat livers on a stick. That's unusual, and it isn't down to stress. Maybe he's ill, a stomach bug picked up from that cheap takeout joint downtown he went to yesterday. And this morning. And for lunch. Best noodles for miles around.

His innards twist very sharply. Oh, yes. There's definitely some rumbling going on down in the old belly-o. Flash faces up to the possibility: his immediate future could be very gross indeed, but he still needs to eat.

He hesitates, holding the burger to his lips. It looks less like a burger and more like a congealing hunk of badly cooked dead flesh. Little grains of fat gleam in the light, and the word "yum" disappears from his vocabulary when a greasy sliver of melted cheese oozes out of the burger and drops down onto his leg.

He grabs a tissue. "Fuck," he mutters, swiping at it, cleaning off the cheese and revealing yet another grease mark. Great. That'll be another new costume, then, because he can't exactly drop the thing off at the dry cleaners.

"Something wrong?"

Flash looks up and scowls at GL standing in the doorway, half-leaning against the wall looking smug beyond belief. "No. Everything's great," he mutters, and runs and drops the burger in the trash and runs and sits back down on his bed, though his stomach protests the action.

"You shouldn't eat that shit anyway. It's bad for you," GL says meaningfully, lacing his words with a dark current of _something_ Flash doesn't recognise. He's too worried about his churning stomach to even contemplate working out what the hell GL is talking about.

Flash fingers the stain on his leg. "No kidding."

There's a pause, then a sigh, and then GL sitting down beside him. The bed creaks a little and rocks a lot. Flash's stomach does a little flip, and it isn't good. "Stop moving."

"What?"

"Stop moving," Flash insists, clutching his stomach, sitting frozen, motionless or trying to be, cursing his weird freak body for the first time ever. Normal people have it _so_ easy, just lying still and being peaceful and at rest and letting nature take its course. Flash doesn't know if he's got the patience to survive this. He's going to _die_.

GL touches him, and the heat of GL's hands is more than he can stand, more heat on fever heated naturally hot skin. "Don't."

"What's wrong?" GL asks, and he actually sounds worried.

Flash hesitates again, so off-balance and uncertain tonight. Decisions usually come much easier. "Food poisoning," he finally admits, resigning himself to being on the receiving end of GL's wrath yet again. GL will yell at him for eating bad food for a while and then make him go and get ... get _probed_ or something. By Batman.

He presses a hand to his mouth, swallowing bile. "I think I'm gonna puke."

GL snaps to his feet and grabs the bin, thrusting it into Flash's hands lightning quick before stepping back a little to watch the show. Flash holds onto it, clutching plastic with unsteady fingers, taking quick little breaths and staring at his discarded burger. It's not a sight that really helps.

The bed rocks and dips again. GL's hand on his shoulder again. GL's voice soothing and deep in his ear, GL murmuring, "It's okay. You're okay, kid," and kissing him chastely on the cheek.

"Uh," Flash manages. "You know I'm gonna get gross, right? Like, soon?"

"You're always gross. God knows I've tried to resist."

GL's arm slides around his shoulders, and it's too hot, and Flash tries to imagine that ever feeling good and can't, but he goes along with it anyway because he doesn't think his judgement is functioning right just now. Not that it ever does, and he tries not to look at his burger, fat and horrible and utterly wasted.

GL would never let them end up like that, Flash thinks, and vomits into the trash.


End file.
